Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It will not make you strong.

I envythe cup of coffeethat getsto kissyour sleepy lipsawakeevery cold andbitter morning.

I am the girlyou fool around with,before you meetthe love of your life.

To me you were home, to you I was just a vacation.

And the next time I reach for my pen,it won’t be to write about you again.The sun will feel warm on my skin once more,and I will get drunk on the colors of the skyinstead...

I ache for you.

God is such a cruel godfor making you so wonderful,and for making me so weak.

I love youas much as the oceankisses the shoreno matter how many timesit is sent away.

The thought of youbeing with someone else isliterally killing me.And you couldn’t care less. BecauseI am just one of the writhing bodiesthat ruined your bed sheets.

I hate early mornings.But I love waking up with you.

I used to arch my back for boys who couldn’t even remember the color of my bedsheets.But you, however, made me turnover the arch on my mouth.

You are neither coffee nor tea,you are just the right amount ofwhatever it is I’m trying to find.

You wanted to see the world. And yet, all I want is to see you.

I am starting to acceptthat you never loved me.And it’s sadbecause I don’t think you seehow beautiful you are to me.Your face was the lightthat chased away the shadows,every nightmare, every fear.But you burned out...